


Juvenile Delinquence

by supinetothestars



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Age of Ultron what's that, BAMF Tony, Basically just ignores every movie after Avengers 1, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Friendship, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Except it has Shuri and Peter because every fic needs Shuri and Peter, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Teenagers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supinetothestars/pseuds/supinetothestars
Summary: When something goes wrong during a mission, Tony Stark is turned into his eighteen year old self. It's up to the Avengers to make sure he doesn't get himself killed until they find a fix.Unfortunately, that isn't as easy as it sounds.(In which Tony Stark is an immature juvenile delinquent with an IQ of 200 and a company worth billions of dollars, and Rhodey thought he was done playing designated driver for a drunk celebrity college kid with too much time on his hands.)





	1. the boys i mean are not refined

**Author's Note:**

> We'll see how this goes. If I get good responses I'll add some more chapters. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "they speak whatever's on their mind
> 
> they do whatever's in their pants
> 
> the boys i mean are not refined
> 
> they shake the mountains when they dance."  
> -E. E Cummings, "The Boys I Mean Are Not Refined"

“Let me get this straight,” Clint said, for the third time that hour. “He’s _eighteen_. The richest person alive, highest IQ in the US and I swear to God if you tell him I said that I’ll kill you- has been turned into a fucking eighteen year old.”

“Yes,” Coulson said, with a level of patience even Steve was finding miraculous. “That is what I am telling you.”

The two were standing near the bay door of the quinjet, rehashing a conversation that had already been repeated several times. Natasha was leaning against the wall, watching in silence, while Bruce sat on the floor near the controls and Steve sat with his arms crossed in one of the chairs, frowning. Thor had gone ahead to discuss the situation with Fury.

“Jesus mother of-” Clint began, unleashing a long string of disreputable words. “How the fuck did this happen?”

“As I have said,” Coulson began, “Several times already, it appears that the creatures we were fighting used some form of extraterrestrial magi-”

“How do we reverse it?” Natasha interrupted. “Do we have any leads on that? Did anyone get a sample of these creatures’ DNA to see what sort of thing we have here?”

Coulson shook his head. “Thor is going to see what information the Asgardians have on the matter. Tony was still unconscious when they picked him up, I haven’t heard anything more on that front.”

Bruce spoke up for the first time. “What about the arc reactor? Did it stay in?”

Coulson nodded. “As far as we can tell the arc reactor hasn’t changed. It’s taking up more space in his chest than it normally would, so that could pose a threat.”

“Oh, god,” Clint grumbled. “Stark’s already an immature asshole, and here I thought he couldn’t get worse…”

“Is he really eighteen, though?” Steve asked. “Or is it just his body- has he lost memories?”

“As far as we can tell, he’s got no memory of anything after he turned seventeen or so.”

 

~~~

“He woke up on the quinjet while they tried to get him back to headquarters,” was the first thing Nick Fury said upon joining the assembled avengers in a conference room. “Freaked out and destroyed the medical instruments they were using, apparently kicked his doctors in the nuts. We had to handcuff him.”

“This is getting off to a great start,” Natasha observed, earning a glare from Coulson and Steve. She held her hands up slightly in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry, but honestly? The only thing I can think of worse than having a hangover billionaire genius of a teenager our hands is having a panicked billionaire genius of a teenager. How are we going to keep the press off our tails? They probably have already heard about him going down in the middle of  a fight.”

“We’re handling the press,” Coulson said. “The problem right now is Stark, because as much as I hate to admit it,  even teenage Stark is a force to be reckoned with when he’s pissed.”

“I knew Stark when he was a teenager,” Fury said grimly. He looked as happy and cheerful as ever. “Quite frankly, there wasn’t much of a goddamned difference then, either, in terms of personality. Except for the possibility that he was more of a jackass then, which is saying something for Stark.. He was a genius and he knew how to manipulate people and handle the press, but he didn’t bother to in favour of spending his time drunk of his ass at rich frat parties. We won’t be able to handle him like he’s a child. He’s already figured out something’s wrong just by the tech we used on the Quinjet. Our best hope is being upfront about things, and hoping he doesn’t decide to do any jackassery while he’s still eighteen.” There was a beeping noise, and the screen in front of Fury flashed with a message. Fury gave a terrible smile. “Speak of the devil. Send ‘im in.”

“He’s here already?” Steve asked, startled. Fury nodded.

A few seconds later, the doors of the conference room slid open. Bruce and Steve did a visible double take. Clint muttered, “mother of god….”. Coulson  just wore a vague, very slight smile.

Tony certainly looked younger, the gray hairs gone, the wrinkles faded. He was, if anything, shorter, wearing jeans and a white shirt that didn’t fit right, the glow of the arc reactor bright through his shirt. He was handcuffed, but as the doors opened he said something to the guards behind him and they uncuffed him.

His eyes did a quick sweep across the room before settling on Fury. Something in Tony’s expression looked _off_ , scared even, but he didn't mention it. He strode forward, planting his palms on the desk.  
“ _Fury_ , how nice to see you again,” He said, in a dangerously mocking tone. Fury gave a long sigh. Tony kept talking. “Jesus, you’ve gotten old, I mean- sorry, but really, it’s been- what- a year? You look like you’re forty, I swear, the whole shaving thing doesn’t help- and really, come on, an eye patch? I mean, I’m not one to criticize the dramatic here, but that’s a bit over the top-” He paused, but only briefly. “What, you know, I guess I’m trying to say here is _why in all of fucking hell did I wake up chained down in a SHIELD jet_ , huh? And, you know, I’ve got a killer headache- could just be hungover, but really, it feels a lot like somebody goddamn drugged me.”

Fury opened his mouth to talk, but Stark beat him to the chase. “Now, I really thought you were smarter than this, Fury,” he said. “You were privy to the whole fifteen-years-is-the-limit deal, right? Right. So you _know_ that Howard isn’t going to pay you or make you weapons or do whatever the flying fuck it is you want him to do for you that would cause you to do something so abysmally goddamn stupid as drugging Tony Stark and handcuffing him to a jet.” He paused again. “You know, speaking of which, I’m really quite miffed about the whole drugging thing, since when do you have to _drug_ me to get me unconscious, I mean is that really a priority right now, getting me to pass out _more_ , Rhodey’s already going mad as it is. Also, did any of you happen to take a fucking hammer to my chest? Because I feel like I've been trampled on by a herd of wild horses and also my chest is fucking _glowing_ , but nobody will tell me what the hell that's about because they were too busy handcuffing me to a stretcher.”

“Stark,” Fury cut in, “Take a seat and shut up for one goddamned moment and we’ll explain what’s happening.”

Tony, astonishingly, did not sit. He just kept talking. “And, for the record, where in all of the goddamned world did you get that jet, because that sure as fuck didn’t look like SHIELD tech I’ve seen before, and I’ve seen a great deal more SHIELD tech then you think I have, you’ve really got some delusions of grandeur when it comes to your own designs’ security, you sh-” He cut abruptly off, and paused for a long second. He was staring straight at Steve with a very odd, frozen look on his face. Steve looked mildly uncomfortable and tried to appear friendly.

 

“Well holy goddamn fuck,” Tony said quietly, since apparently his vocabulary decreased under stress. “You found Captain America.”

 


	2. Be Nobody's Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at this 'fanfiction' thing. Thanks for reading anyway. Comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> "Be an outcast;
> 
> Be pleased to walk alone
> 
> (Uncool)
> 
> Or line the crowded
> 
> River beds
> 
> With other impetuous
> 
> Fools."  
> -Alice Walker, "Be Nobody's Darling"

“You found Captain America,” Tony said again. “Fuck. Is that why you brought me in?”

He’d lost the easy, rambling way he’d been talking to Fury before. His words were tense and clipped, and he was looking between Steve and Fury with something intense in his gaze. “It is, isn’t it. This has something to do with Howard. You’re trying to use me- god knows what for, something to do with Howard-” He squinted at Steve. “Jesus, it’s true, you  _ are _ huge. You’re like, a- a- superman or something. One of those comic superheroes- Jesus, I didn’t think Captain America was really the type to kidnap minors, yknow? Or drug people. But hey, maybe disappearing into the arctic for a few decades messes you up.”

“You’re not a minor,” Clint pointed out. “You’re eighteen.”

“Who the fuck are you? Don’t answer that. Why am I here? Why is Captain America kidnapping college kids now? Does being a national icon not pay?”

“We didn’t kidnap you,” Steve said, and opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by Fury. “Stark, as I said before,” Fury said, “If you take a godddamn seat and shut up for longer than five seconds we can explain everything.”

“Oh, go ahead,” Tony said. “Explain. I’m waiting. Totally listening.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here, there was an accident while some of our agents were on duty,” Fury said. “You were caught in the crossfire, and as a result- Stark!”

Tony was, predictably, not listening.  Instead, he pulled at his collar and looked down his shirt at the arc reactor, made a strangled shrieking noise, and reached up his shirt to tug at the reactor.

“Don’t  _ touch _ that,” Fury said. “Goddamn it, don’t  _ touch _ that, just listen to what I’m saying.”

“I know you’re talking, but for  _ some fucking reason _ , all I hear is  _ wow, Tony, is that a two inch wide giant glowing neon light light that appears to be embedded in your chest? _ Oh, and also _ , does it hurt like goddamn hell _ ? And yes, yes, it does. What the actual fuck? What the actual fuck did you do to me, Fury,” Tony said, his tony getting progressively more frantic. Fury sighed, a nerve in his jaw twitching furiously. 

“It’s an arc reactor, Stark,” Fury said. “It’s designed to keep you from dying a slow and painful death, so keep your goddamn hands off it.”

“If you wanted me to keep my hands off of it, you could’ve tried something else,” Tony said. “Here, I’ve an idea! Don’t- do whatever the fuck it is you did with this that is causing it to be embedded in my chest.”

“Goddamn it, I give up,” Fury growled, gesturing at the nearest security guard. “Take him to medical and have them explain it.”

The guards standing on either side of the door stepped forward and took hold of each of Tony’s arms, firmly guiding him back out of the room. He struggled, but only briefly, and yanked his left arm free just as the doors of the conference room started closing. The last thing seen was him waving his middle finger at Fury.

Nobody spoke for a few seconds, until Bruce broke the silence by saying, “Well, that went well.”

“Don’t  _ test _ me,” Fury growled. “I waited ten years for the day I wouldn’t have to deal with frat boy Tony Stark again, and now my past comes back to haunt me. I give up, goddamn it. Somebody get Rhodes.”

 

~~~

“Oh, look, Captain America’s come to see me,” Was the first thing Tony said, when the avengers plus Rhodey came to the medical room he was being held in. “I feel honoured. Future me must be pretty charismatic; I’m so popular national icons kidnap me and leave me to rot in empty medical rooms.”

“It’s only been ten minutes since the doctor left,” Bruce said. “Stop whining.”

“Me, whining? Never,” Tony said. “So apparently, you kidnapped me and thought the best way to shut me up was to tell me I was twenty or whatever years ahead of whichever- Rhodey!”

His expression changed the instant his eyes landed on Rhodey, lighting up with something akin to relief. “God, you do look old, maybe they  _ weren’t _ just winding me up. What are you, sixty?”

“Huh,” Rhodey said. “You’re as much of an asshat as I remember.”

“Are you saying I’m  _ less _ of an asshat as I get older? I call bluff.”

"Only slightly. You're about three fourths as much of an asshat."

"Nerd.  _Old_ nerd.

"Hey," Rhodey responded. "At least I'm  _legal_."

"I'm legal! I'm eighteen!"

"You sure?" Rhodey asked. "What are you, thirteen? Twelve maybe?"

Bruce went to look at the medical records sitting on a table by the window, and Steve looked awkwardly at Natasha as Rhodey and Tony kept bickering. “He seems to be taking it...surprisingly well,” Steve said quietly, out of earshot of Tony. Nat shook her head. “He’s panicking inside, I can tell,” she responded. “He starts cursing more and talking faster when he’s panicked. It’s nothing new.”

“I never noticed that,” Steve said, with a small frown. “Has Thor found anything in his search for the creatures that did this?”

She shook her head. “He’s disapeared. Off the radar since Fury first asked him to go looking.”

Steve frowned and looked back at Tony, who was arguing avidly with Rhodey. "You'd better not piss me off," He was saying. "I'll have you know I have ALL the college dirt on you. Every stupid stunt you've ever pulled. That time you puked all over Rebeccah Lispen-"

“He can’t stay here forever,” A voice said from Steve’s other side. It was Bruce. “We’ve got to find some place to put him, and he can’t be seen by the press. And quite frankly, I don’t think we need him near Fury any longer unless we want him dead and Fury in an asylum.”

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying,” Clint said. “Please, God, don’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“Not God, just Bruce,” Bruce said. “And yes, I think we’ll have to take him back to the tower.”

“Is that really wise?” Steve asked. “How much of the present do we really want him knowing? Besides- he’s a teenager, and there’s a lot of pretty dangerous stuff in the Tower.”

Natasha laughed. “Steve, right now  _ Tony _ is just about the most dangerous thing in this entire helicarrier. He’s still Tony, and he’s still a hellish force to be reckoned with if he wants to be, it’s just that right now he’s got the same IQ with about a third as much common sense.”

“Dear Lord,” Clint said. “I thought he couldn’t lose any more common sense. I thought he’d hit rock bottom.”

“He has a pickaxe, and he’s ready to dig,” Natasha responded, with a long and slightly pained sigh. “Don’t underestimate how far he’s willing to dig, Barton.”

Barton just shrugged. The comm system by the door crackled, and Coulson’s voice came from it: “Avengers, we need you back at the conference room. That includes Tony.”


	3. Still I Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is frustrated by the cleanliness of the communal kitchen. And Dum-E knocks over things.
> 
> "You may write me down in history
> 
> With your bitter, twisted lies,
> 
> You may trod me in the very dirt
> 
> But still, like dust, I'll rise."  
> -Maya Angelou, "Still I Rise"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: I am still bad at this 'fanfiction' thing. And getting worse. I'm sorry. This chapter is a mess. Anyway, kudos and comments are appreciated, thanks for reading.

Coulson apparently, had followed the same line of thought as Bruce. And that was why Steve was now listening to Rhodes and Tony argue passionately over who had better blackmail dirt on the other, which had been the topic of discussion for the whole ride to the Tower. For best friends, the only thing they had done since meeting each other was  _ argue _ . 

“Oh, no, no,” Rhodes was saying. “I, without a doubt, win this discussion. End of sentence. Period. I win. I have  _ twenty years  _ of dirt on you, Tony. I don’t care how many times I vomited on my dates, I have the plain upper hand here. Give up. I have the high ground.”

“No, no, see, your dirt on me is rendered unusable by the plain  _ fact _ that everybody already knows it, Rhodey,” Tony said. “I’m a high profile case. Everybody knows about all the times I’ve been an idiot. You, on the other hand, have retained some dignity. It’s the failure of being a reasonable person; you’re tall enough on your mountain of respect and dignity that if that mountain crumbled? Splat. Dead as a doornail. Now  _ I, _ my dear Rhodey, have been smart. I have avoided that  _ splat _ . I have avoided it by being an abysmal idiot at every opportunity regardless of the proximity of cameras. I do not live on a mountain, but in a valley. Your dirt on me has no effect.”

“Well, he’s got you there, Rhodes,” Natasha said. “After all, he  _ is _ an abysmal idiot.”

The limosine veered and pulled into a garage, the tinted windows falling into shadow. “Okay,” Coulson called from his spot next to the driver, leaning around so they could see him. “The tower has been cleared of employees, it’s empty aside from Jarvis. Use of the roof or balconies is restricted because the press are already after our tails and I don’t want to risk Stark being photographed.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tony said, already out of his seat and at the door. “It’s Tony. Jesus, why do I have a whole fucking parking garage in my basement? I mean, not like I don’t love garages, but I really  _ don’t _ .”

Steve climbed out of the limousine after the rest of the group. Coulson closed his car door with a bang, and the limousine backed up with a screech and veered out of the parking lot.

The group crowded into an elevator that opened up on the common floor- communal kitchen, living room, and balcony, though the windows had been tinted and cast the room into darkness. As Steve stepped out of the elevators, the lights flickered on.

Tony whistled appreciatively and surveyed the area. “Not half bad,” He said. “It’s all very...bright, though. Something’s...off.” He frowned. “It looks different than I expected…”

“It’s clean,” Rhodey said. “That’s the word you’re looking for. It’s clean.”

It was, in fact, clean, with the counters wiped down and the dishes clean. Tony pursed his lips disapprovingly. “It looks all  _ wrong _ , clean. Who cleaned it, are there maids? Or robot maids? Do I have hovering automatic robot maids that clean everything up and do surgery and wage war against humans? That’s how the future goes, right?”

“No,” Coulson said. “You have robotic vaccuum cleaners, though. They’re called roombas.”

“Now that’s more like it.”

“They sometimes fall down stairs.”

“I take it back.” Tony said. “That’s a stupid idea. Is this really where I live? It’s very disappointing. Too clean. No holographic video screens or teleporting devices.”

“You spent most of your time in the lab downstairs,” Bruce said. “But I don’t know that you should go down there right now, it’s kind of dangerous- where are you going?”

Tony, by way of heeding Bruce’s warning, had stepped into the elevator and disappeared behind the closing doors. Bruce winced. “Well, uh, shit. Should we try to stop the elevator?”

“He’ll find his way down there eventually,” Natasha said. “It’s just a matter of time. I’m going to my floor now. I volunteer Clint to go make sure he doesn’t blow everyone up.”

Clint had wandered over to the couch and was browsing through TV channels. He didn’t look up.

“I’ll go,” Bruce said. “I know the most about what’s down there, anyway.”

“Am I still needed?” Rhodes ask. “I can stay if necessary, but I’ve got reports to file, things to blow up, et cetera.”

Coulson had a look suspiciously like a grimace, but he nodded. “We’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Good,” Rhodes said. “Keep me updated, okay? Keep trying to find a way to reverse whatever this is, I’m sick of playing designated driver for drunk celebrity college kids with too much time on their hands.”

 

As Bruce took the elevator down and Rhodes headed out, Steve sat on the couch next to Clint. He tapped Clint’s shoulder. Clint looked over at him and reached up to click on his hearing aids.

“Why’d you turn them off?” Steve asked, bemused. Clint shrugged. “I got sick of listening to Stark and Rhodes’ banter. Don’t blame me, you’d have done the same if you had the chance.”

Steve laughed. “Hard to argue.”

__

When the elevator  _ ping _ ed to a stop and the doors slid open, Tony was staring at the holographic images pulled up in the center of the lab. He tentatively ran a hand along one, and it spun in a circle. Tony looked over his shoulder as Bruce walked up. 

“This is more like it, huh?” He said. “Holograms, shiny futuristic looking appliances, coffee mug everywhere, a complete mess.”

Bruce glanced around and found that Tony was right. The lab was a montage of tables crowded with gears and parts, mugs and beer glasses scattered across the floor, papers with coffee spilled across them, garbage bins flooding over.  

“This  _ is _ a mess,” Bruce said. “I don’t know how you- adult you anyway- works like this.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked around anxiously.

"It's not just "adult" me," Tony said. "Some things never change, you know."

There was a creaking sound and the grinding of gears, and Dum-E came into view from behind a table. His camera was cocked slightly to the side, making inquisitive squeaking noises as he hesitantly rolled back and forth, the movements seeming almost anxious.

Tony’s face lit up. “Hey, Dummy!” He looked at Bruce. “Jesus, how is he still functional?”

“You know him?” Bruce asked, surprised. Tony nodded.

“I  _ made _ him! A year ago or so. He’s a mess. I thought Howard would get fed up and dismantle him one of these days.”

“Does he do that often?” Bruce asked with a slight frown.

"Used to, doesn't do it now that I'm at college."  Tony patted Dum-E’s head fondly. "Is this robot still an idiot, or did I upgrade him?"

“I wouldn’t say he's an _idiot,_ " Bruce said, but Dum-E promptly tried to back up and rammed into a table, knocking off some metal parts. "I take it back, actually."

Dum-E reached down and picked up the parts, depositing then on the table. Then hestretched his camera up to be eye level with Tony’s face, and rocked back and forth excitedly some more. Tony laughed and turned to look at the holograms hovering above one of the work tables. It was a design for a new set of arrows Tony had been designing for Clint. Tony spun it around a few times, then experimentally flicked his hand and the hologram spun away across the room. 


	4. Auguries of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony eats ramen and teases Captain America.
> 
> "To see a world in a grain of sand,
> 
> And a heaven in a wild flower,
> 
> To hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
> 
> And Eternity in an hour."  
> -William Blake, "Auguries of Innocence"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remain terrible at fanfiction. But I try. Sort of. Comments and kudos are appreciated so, so much!

That evening, after spending time looking around the lab, Tony finally resurfaced in the commons, with a weary Bruce trailing after him.

Coulson and Steve sat at the counter, discussing something in serious, quiet tones that faded away as soon as the elevator opened. Clint was making eggs; or at least that seemed to be the intention of the black pile of char currently smoking in a pan.

“You seem happy to see me,” Tony observed. “Such cheerful smiles. Such...a terrible smell, what  _ is _ that?”

“Eggs,” Clint said, looking up. “I think. I got distracted.”

“I can tell. Why are you cooking? Don’t I have, I dunno, oompa loompas or something to cook instead?”

“Excuse  _ me _ , I am capable of cooking for myself.”

“No you aren’t,” Coulson responded.

“True, but that’s why we have Steve.”

Bruce stepped back into the elevator and disappeared from view, pulling off his glasses to rub his eyes wearily.

Steve just sighed. Tony opened the fridge, scanning the items inside. “Gah. Real food. Don’t I have, ramen or something?” He gave a box of spinach a disgusted look.

“That’s a very unhealthy lifesty-” Steve began, but was cut off by Clint, who nodded in approval and said, “Right with ya there,” and pulled two stacks of ramen from a cabinet.

Tony started boiling some water and absently pushed the smoking egg pan into the sink. “So,” he said, a little offhandedly. “I take it we’re still not talking about it, hm?”

“About...what,” Steve said, looking uncomfortable.

“Elephant in the room, Cap. Aside from the other ten or so elephants in the room, if we include this tower’s terrible food selection.”

“And what’s that?” Coulson asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Tony paused in stirring the pot. “Howard, obviously. Is he dead? What about mom?”

Even Coulson looked almost uncomfortable, at that. Clint busied himself in studying the back of the milk jug.

A second passed.

“...Ooohkay,” Tony said. “I’ll take that as a yes. How?”

“Car crash,” Coulson said, watching Tony cautiously. Steve couldn’t look more concerned if he tried.

“Damn.” Tony looked surprised. “ I always thought he’d crash into the arctic doing another search mission. Scratch that, I thought he’d finally annoy someone so much they’d kill him. Me and Ty have- had-  a bet going; I thought it would be me; he thought it would be the board of directors.”

Steve’s concerned expression melted into a slightly guilty one.

“You have no poker face, you know that?” Tony told him, and poured the ramen into two bowls. He handed one to Clint and settled on the sofa. Clint climbed on top of the refrigerator with a jump and settled down.

“So, what’s with the nightlight,” Tony asks, because clearly he isn’t asking easy questions. “And how my chest looks like it was mauled by a cougar.”   
“It’s an arc reactor,” Coulson said, and Tony actually looked a little impressed. “But didn’t the med team say as much?”

“Only that it’s apparently keeping me alive, and I can’t take it out or break it or experiment on it, yadda yadda.”

“Well, they’re about right. The scarring’s from the implantation surgery.”

“Fun, fun.” Tony tapped experimentally at the reactor through his shirt. “You know what I could use? A goddamned drink. Or ten.”

“You’re  _ eighteen _ ,” Steve started, disapprovingly. “You shou-”

“ _ So, your friends are drinking,” _ Tony cut him off, with a faux low voice. “ _ And maybe you feel pressured to join in, huh? Well I’m Captain America, and I’m here to tell you-” _

“-to be responsible, and don’t drink until you’re twenty one,” Clint finished, in a sing-song tone, grinning at Steve.  

Steve buried his face in his hands. “Gaaaah,” He moaned. “I’m never gonna live those down.”

Tony snorted. “Sure aren’t.”

“ _ Director Fury is requesting Mr. Coulson’s presence in the helicarrier,” _ Jarvis’s voice rang out. Coulson stood, smoothed his suit coat, gave a brief smile, and disappeared into the elevator.

Steve and Clint startled as Tony’s bowl clattered to the ground with a crashing noise. Both of them stared at Tony, who was sitting very still with an odd look on his face, watching the nearest speaker.

“What was that?” He asked abruptly.

“Jarvis,” Steve said. “Your AI.”

“..Jarvis,” Tony said, his expression even odder now. “As in, Jarvis. Sheesh. I have a screwed up life.” He sighed, picked up his bowl, and walked over to the sink.


	5. Dirge Without Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint does what he's best at; Tony contemplates love, Kate shows off her singing skills.
> 
> "Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
> 
> Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
> 
> Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
> 
> I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned."  
> -Edna St. Vincent Millary, "Dirge Without Music"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried. Kudos and comments are appreciated!

_ Okay _ , Clint thought.  _ This looks bad. _

It had all started with those goddamned Doombots. The Avengers had been relaxing, milling around the tower and keeping an eye on Tony, waiting for Thor to report back to Shield with information on Tony’s deaging.

And then the alarm had gone off, and Fury’s voice broadcasted through the tower with a message that  _ you motherfuckers better get out here _ . 

Of course, they couldn’t leave Tony alone in a towerful of fun little deadly weapons, so someone had to stay behind and keep him out of trouble.

It was a terrible plan, really.

Anyone with half a mind knew that Clint couldn’t go six seconds without trouble. But here he was, assigned to the job of watching a teenage genius billionaire, who apparently had found the alcohol stash while Clint had been upstairs in his shooting range.

“N-now,” Tony slurred, holding a half empty bottle in his limp hand as empty bottles clinked on the laboratory floor around him. “Here’s what  _ I _ don’t understand.”

“This should be good,” Clint said, glancing around the lab helplessly for the source of the beer. He spotted an open fridge in the corner full of beer bottles and vodka. Thankfully, the vodka appeared unopened. “Tony Stark admitting he doesn’t understand something? I want a recording.”

“Recording begun,” Jarvis’s voice clipped from the ceiling. 

“I wasn’t  _ serious-  _ god, nevermind,” Clint said.

“Well, that’s another thing I don’t understand,” Tony mumbled. “Why the everliving bloody Nick Fury I have an AI named after my dead butler, but that’s another thing…”

“Dead butler,” Clint said. “That’s a new one. What was the other? I was getting invested.”

“I...forget. DUMMY!” Tony shouted. Clint jumped, but Dum-E eagerly lifted one claw above the couch. He was holding a beer bottle.

Tony tried three times to clink his bottle against Dum-E’s with no success, instead drenching beer over his hand. On the fourth time he succeeded, and let out a cheer before chugging the rest of the bottle.

He flipped over on the couch so his face was down into the pillow. He mumbled something, but Clint didn’t hear it.

“Say what?” Clint asked, as he started picking up the various empty and broken bottles around the room and tossing them at the nearest garbage can (having perfect aim pays off). 

Tony shifted his head so he was facing the wall. “Everybody’s deaaaad,” He mumbled. “I wonder if this is what Steve feels like all the time.”

“It’s only thirty years in the future,” Clint said. “I’m sure some people are still alive.”

“Baaaagh,” Tony mumbled. “Jarvis is dead. Peggy’s dead. I miss Peggy.” He started giggling, which Clint took as an omen of doom. “Only Rhodey’s left because they’re all deaaad.”

Clint frowned. Tony started laughing again.

“Obie’s dead. Ty’s dead. Peggy’s dead.” Tony shifted his head again so he was face down into the couch. He started laughing harder, and after a moment Clint realized that Tony had stopped laughing. He was sobbing.

“Oh,” Clint said, and didn’t know what else to say.

This wasn’t on the job description.

~~~

“Clint,” Kate said, “Who do I have to save you from this time?”

“Meeeaaan,” Clint said. “Where are you?”

“Out,” She said, her voice crackling from Clint’s phone. “Walking my dog.”

“You don’t have a dog.”

“Well, you do,” She said, “And somebody had to be the responsible owner. Back to my question?”

“Tony Stark.”

“What about him?”

“He’s crying. And I’m supposed to babysit him.”

“Do..I want to know?”

“Doesn’t matter; you will. I need backup.”

 

~~~

“I’ve decided,” Kate Bishop said, twenty minutes later, standing at the foot of the laboratory stairs in shorts and a crop top, and a very friendly half-blind dog named Lucky. “I don’t want to know.”

She was watching a terrifying scene of disaster: Tony Stark, eighteen years old, drunk off his ass and crying while singing  _ Auld Lang Syne _ off-key and hugging/leaning on a very happy Dum-E.

“Too late,” Clint said. “Tony’s been deaged and now he’s crying, Kate. This is not a skill set of mine. I am transferring control over the situation to you.”

“Nuh-uh, you don’t,” Kate responded, either to Clint or to the dog, who was trying to lick a nearby beer bottle. She unclipped him and watched as he trotted over to Tony and plopped down on the ground.

“I have no experience here,” Clint pleaded. “I’ve never been in this situation. I’m always the sad drunk, not the designated driver!”

“Well then, we know what to do,” Kate said.

“...We do?”

“We do what we’re best at.” Kate opened the vodka bottle and poured a shot.

“...We shoot him?”

“No, we get drunk,” Kate said, and chugged the vodka.

  
  
  
  
  
  


~~~

 

“I don’t see how this could have happened,” Steve said, two hours later, staring in horror at a scene of devastation and destruction.

“I do,” Bruce said.

“Yeah, me too.” Natasha maintained.

“It’s pretty simple.” Bruce scratched his head anxiously.

“-What?” Steve looked over at them, distracted. “No, it isn’t! How is this a simple situation?!?”

“Well, you left Clint on babysitting duty,” Natasha responded. “What did you  _ expect _ ?”

“Not  _ this _ , clearly!” Steve was frantic. “Not this! Nothing like this!”

“ _ tOOOO SAD WE PAAARTED IN YOOOON SHAAADY GLEEEEEN,” _ Clint sang, swinging upside-down from one of the rafters, holding a beer bottle in one limp hand.

“wHERE MEEE AND MY TRUEEEE LOVE WILL NEVEER MEET AGAIAIAIIIIIIIN,” Kate sang. ‘Sang’ was perhaps too strong a word. More fitting would be ‘screeched’, ‘shrieked’, ‘howled’, and ‘yowled’. She was sitting upside down on a chair, with her legs up over the head and her head dangling over the edge of the seat.

“Loooove,” Tony slurred. “What is looove? Am I in looove? STEVE!” He yelled, waving at Steve. “Do I have a wife, steve?”

“Um,” Steve said.  
“I knewwwww it,” Tony said. “I’m gonna die alooooone. I’m alooooone.” 

“ON THE STEEEEEP SIIIDES OF BEN  LOOOOOOMOND,” Kate shrieked.

“You aren’t alone,” Steve said, automatically moved to comfort.

“yOU KNOW WHAT?” Tony said, louder than was necessary. “I should marry a guY. Guys don’t...don’t…” He appeared to have lost his train of thought. He started giggling. “Hahhhaaa….that’ll be funny...Howard’ll be so mad…”

Steve buried his face in his hands and sank down the wall to the floor.

“aND I’LLLL BE IN SCOOOTLAND BEFORRRRE YEEEEE,” Clint screamed, and fell to the floor with a thud.


	6. A Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve threatens Tony with Squrriel Girl. Dum-E finds his secret talent. Kate is really hungover.
> 
> "A voice said, Look me in the stars
> 
> And tell me truly, men of earth,
> 
> If all the soul-and-body scars
> 
> Were not too much to pay for birth."  
> -Robert Frost, "A Question"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers block is the bane of my existence. Kudos and comments, as always, are appreciated. So are fanfic recs. I'm out of good gen marvel fanfics, or Defenders fanfics. Or Daredevil fanfics. Or, like, any fanfics. At all.
> 
> NOTE: I've officially changed the title. And I edited all chapters to have short poems excerpts I really love.

“I’m disappointed in you, Clint,” Steve was saying, for the third time that hour.

“Boy, who isn’t,” Clint mumbled, holding a huge glass of water and rubbing his head blearily. “God, it’s so fucking loud in here.”

“Tell me about it,” Kate mumbled. She was slumped in a huge armchair, head resting on one hand and eyes squeezed shut.

“Kate and Tony can’t even legally  _ drink _ ! And yet we go on a mission for  _ three hours _ and you manage to have some sort of drunken rave in the basement!”

“Heyyyy,” Kate frowned. “I can legally drink. Almost. I’m like, a year away from being able to legally drink.”

“He’s just jealous cuz he can’t get drunk, Kate,” Clint groaned.

 

The elevator slid open with a ding.

“I should warn everyone right off the bat,” Tony said. “I’m still a little drunk, so just disregard anything and everything I say for the next two days. Or three. Or a week. God, how about a year? I’ll move to Alaska and become a hermit, I watched a show about Alaskan villages that climbed under the frozen sea ice to eat oysters or something.”

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaah shut UP Stark,” Clint responded.

“Tony,” Steve said, crossing his arms and frowning at the disheveled teenager. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“Just like my old man used to say,” Tony said in a deadpan tone of voice.  
“Run, Stark,” Kate warned. “He’s giving you the eyebrows of disappointment. It’s over. Just run.”

“I don’t  _ do _ excercise,” Tony responded.

Bruce settled on a stool and watched the exchange with interest.

“You were in a lab full of very dangerous equipment, much of which you vomited on,” Steve continued. “I think I have a right to be concerned.”

“Just continuing the good ole’ family legacy,” Tony said. “Alcoholism is Stark family tradition.”

There was a brief silence.

“Sorry, I did it again,” Tony said. “Like I said, disregard everything I say.”

“I don’t like this tradition,” Clint whined. “And my head hurts.”

“Lightweights,” Tony said, not without affection. “I could handle more when I was twelve.”

“You don’t look too hot yourself,” Kate said with a frown.

“No, this is a Stark in his natural state,” Tony said. “Drunk and...what’s an adjective for ‘insomnia’?”

“Agrypnotic,” Bruce said, from where he was sipping decaffeinated green tea.

“Now  _ that’s _ impressive,” Clint said. “Say, what’s the spelling of ‘incorrigible’?”

“I-N-C-O-R-R-I-G-I-B-L-E,” Bruce said. “I’m not a dictionairy, ask JARVIS.”

“Even Jess didn’t know that,” Clint said. “Though, it may have been that I’d called her at like three A.M.”

“Well, that’d do it.”

“If you keep this up we’ll have to get Squirrel Girl to babysit you,” Steve said. 

Tony paused for a moment in confusion, before shrugging. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”

~~~

“Why do you call him that?” Bruce asked, later, when the two of them were in the labs. Tony was cleaning up what was left of the previous night’s rave (at Steve’s “request”), and had just been telling a story about one of this father’s Arctic expeditions.

“Call him what?”

“Howard.” Bruce was frowning slightly and tapping his pen against the paper of his notebook.

“It’s his name, isn’t it?” Tony started tossing bottles at Dum-E to test the robot’s reflexes. Most of the bottles crashed to the ground and shattered.

“That’s my point. It’s his name. Why do you call your father by his actual name? -Don’t do that, you’ll get glass everywhere.”

Tony tossed a mop at Dum-E and told him to clean up the glass. “Well, he asked me too, for one.”

“He asked you too?”   
Tony nodded. “When I was like, ten or so. Told me I was too old for pet names. I think being called ‘Dad’ reminded him he was getting old,” Tony added with a snort of laughter.

Bruce just looked away and frowned a little, looking almost sad. Tony frowned at him.

“Hey, cheer up. It’s not all bad; on the bright side, I think Dum-E has some real talent. We should get him a football jersey.”


	7. Sit with the broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hammocks are interrogated. Energy drinks are consumed. Liftoff is achieved. Steve is literally so done.
> 
>  
> 
> "Sit with the broken  
> to witness  
> what true strength  
> looks like."  
> -Anjum Choudhary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looky, I actually updated on time this go-around. This fanfic is much sillier than originally intended. Ah well. Kudos + comments are appreciated!

Steve was having a good day.

Steve’s current mood was that of somebody pleasantly strolling in the park, his thoughts gently settled into a pleasant lull at the back of his brain. He’d just come from the private gym in his quarters, and was heading to the kitchen floor to get some food. He wasn’t really paying much attention to his surroundings as he pressed the elevator button.

Something at the back of Steve’s mind dimly registered the sound of cheering and whooping coming from the elevator shaft. The more sensible part of his mind decided it would be better not to think about such things.

The elevator doors opened.

Steve cocked his head slightly as he tried to understand the scene before him.This attempt was doomed to failure.

“...Hammock?” He asked, helplessly.

The hammock giggled.

So did Clint Barton.

“We’re playing a game,” Kate informed Steve. “Truth or dare. We’re all very hungover. Would you like to join us?”

“I just don’t understand,” Steve said helplessly.

“It’s like this,” said the hammock, and Tony Stark’s teenage face emerged. “I’m hungover. So are they. We’re both still kind of drunk. Naturally, this followed.”

“But,” Steve said. “It...doesn’t. That doesn’t follow.”

Clint waved his hand of cards at Steve from his spot hanging from the hammock’s right strap. “Wanna play truth or dare, Steve?” He invited. “I dared Kate to jump-scare Bruce, but we can’t find him because he’s on the main floor and none of us can reach the main-floor button.”

“I can” Tony said, his voice muffled by the hammock. “It’s like this: JARVIS, go to main floor.”

“Jarvis, override code Epsilon 6X,” Steve responded. “Clint, I really don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘truth’?” Clint suggested.

“We’re also playing poker,” Kate informed Steve. “We were going to play shots for every time one of us lost, but Black Widow hid the liquor and Clint said he had to make the mature decision like a wimp, so we’re doing this instead.” She gestured to a MONSTER energy drink sitting near the corner, next to a pile of used plastic cups.

“Talk trash to me and I turn off my hearing aids,” Clint mumbled, swaying slightly.

“Good god,” Steve said.

The elevator doors started to close, and the compartment whirred upwards with the faint echo of someone yelling ‘LIFTOFF  _ ACHIEVED!’ _ .

 

Steve stood for a few seconds, trying to fully comprehend the weight of what he had just seen. 

That was when the puzzle pieces fit together: Kate had said Bruce was on the main floor. The main floor was above Steve’s floor. The elevator was going to the main floor. Where it would encounter Bruce.

 

Steve hurled himself at the nearest stairs.

~~~

Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted to take the elevator.

This urge was spurred by the wild screaming coming from the slowly opening doors.

This urge was heightened upon finding what lay behind those slowly opening doors.

“...Clint,” Bruce said slowly. “...What are you doing?”

“Tony wanted to do shots,” Clint said reasonably, “Kate wanted to relax on a hammock. Tony wanted a tour. I wanted to lay down. I found a compromise, because I’m a functioning, mature adult.”

“This was your compromise?” Bruce peered into the large compartment. “Wait, is that an energy drink?”

“This was my compromise,” Clint said. “It’s an automatic tour of every floor! Plus hammocks! Plus shots! Minus hangovers! God, I’m really hungover.”

“I can tell.”

“Bruce,” Tony’s voice said, muffled, coming from the human formed cocooned within the tightly closed hammock. “Be a pal and get me some water.”

“Tony,” Bruce said, “Be a pal and come out of that hammock.”

“I’m done with you all,” Clint said, and he pulled out his hearing aids and tucked them in his pocket. He swung down from the hammock and ambled out of the elevator, and pressed the elevator button. He stood there for a few moments as nothing happened, before realizing his mistake, mumbling ‘ _ dammit…’ _ and returning to his place in the elevator.

 

There was a loud thumping noise and Steve emerged from the staircase, panting slightly. He spotted Bruce in front of the elevator and went pale.

“Bruce,” He said, “I have been verifiably informed that the occupants of that elevator are going to try and startle you.”

“I guessed as much,” Bruce said, with a weary sigh. “Tony, please come out of the hammock."

There was a rustling as the hammock twisted around, and Tony fell out of it onto the floor with an  _ uumph _ .

“I came out of the hammock,” Tony mumbled, lying on the ground. “What do you waaaaaaaaaant.”

“How about we start with you coming out of that elevator,” Bruce said. “And then Kate coming out, and then Clint.”

Tony attempted to roll out of the elevator, but found that he was too tall.

“God, the ONE time I’m actually taller than something,” He says. “What a cruel, cruel world.”

There was a buzzing sound, and the doors started to close. Steve blocked them with one arm.

“ _ Director Fury is requesting access to the elevator,” _ Jarvis informed him politely.

Bruce and Steve looked at each other as Kate and Tony both frantically tried to get past Steve and out of the elevator. Clint, sensing something was wrong, put his hearing aids back in.

Steve gently pushed Tony back as the teenager attempted to dive under Steve’s arm to freedom.

“Nuh-uh,” He said. “You’ve had this coming for a while now.”

“tHIS IS CRUEL AND UNNECESSARY PUNISHMENT,” Tony shrieked, and made another dive for the door, only to be met by metal as the doors slid shut and the elevator slowly made its way down, accompanied by the sound of frantic shrieking.


	8. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's situation deteriorates further. Shuri is Shuri; Peter meets Hawkeye.
> 
> Tell me I'm clever,  
> Tell me I'm kind,  
> Tell me I'm talented,  
> Tell me I'm cute,  
> Tell me I'm sensitive,  
> Graceful and wise,  
> Tell me I'm perfect-  
> -but tell me the truth.
> 
> Shel Silverstein, Tell Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I'm back. I'm sure you missed me. Please give kudos and comments because I'm needy and require constant validation  
> I'm going to turn this into a series if everything goes according to plan. "Tony Stark vs Magic". Just a series of fics where Tony is affected by magic one way or another.  
> I'm planning a story where Tony swaps places with an alternate-universe Natasha Stark, and chapters from both character's POV's as they meet the other-universe Avengers and stuff.
> 
> Just to clarify the universe this is set in: It's not compliant with anything after Avengers 1- there was no Ultron, no schism, and let's just pretend Thanos never happened. Because reasons. But Peter still meets Tony, and Wakanda's on good terms with Shield, and they know that Coulson was revived because it's Coulson and I like Coulson.

“We’ve got backup,” was the first thing Coulson said upon entering the next Avengers meeting (Pepper was filling in for Tony). “We’ve pulled in some favors and gotten some good scientists to agree to come look at what we’ve compiled on the age regression. Thor’ information on the creatures that did this was good, but we need an outside opinion, which is why we’ve convinced a specialist to come by the tower this afternoon and take a look at it.”

“Who’s the specialist?” Steve asked. “Can they be trusted? We can’t risk this getting out to the press.”

“Don’t I know it,” Pepper said. “This week has been a nightmare, trying to wrangle the media.”

“Yes, she can be trusted,” Coulson said. “With any luck, she’ll help us figure out how to reverse the de-aging process.”

“Is she Jane Foster?” Natasha asked. Coulson shook his head.

“No, she’s...ah....a bit younger.”

~~~

“Huh,” Tony said, staring with considerable surprise at Shuri. “They weren’t kidding, you are young.”

“My youth isn’t the problem here, rich boy,” she said with a grin. “I’m here to make you a grumpy old man again. Where are those files on the alien that did this too you?”

“Jarvis, please pull up the files,” Bruce said, and the holograms shimmered into existence around them. Shuri didn’t seem phased by the apparitions, and swiped them around until she’d found what she was looking for.

“Hmm,” she said, frowning as she examined the charts and graphs. “Okay, I’m going to have to do some tests, if you have the right equipment.”

“I hate tests,” Tony said. “Can we not?”

She just grinned. “Now, if the readings are accurate, there’s definitely been some changes to the radiation the magic is emitting,” she said. “If I’m right, that means your situation is adjusting, and you may start experiencing...other side effects soon. But it also could just be your arc reactor messing with the results. We’ll see one way or the other.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce frowned.

“Trust me, it’ll be obvious.” Her slightly gleeful expression was far from comforting. “It shouldn’t harm him, though. If I get enough info, we should be able to reach a way to interact with the radiation effect causing this, and undo it.”

“Wonderful,” Tony sighed. “I get to be old again.”

“It’s not all as bad as that,” Bruce responded mildly, but Tony frowned at him. “Oh, I’m not complaining. I hate being in college. I’d rather be old then keep being a college kid.”

“That’s the spirit,” Shuri said absently, squinting at the graphs. “Okay, I have an idea of what equipment we’ll need…”

~~~

Clint, upon entering the living room and kitchen, made a beeline for the fridge. He was just coming up from the gym, where he’d trained with Natasha and used the archery range for a bit, and the first thing he did was grab a bottle of water and chug the entire thing in a few seconds.

He stood there for a moment or two, and then did a double take, spinning around as his hand went to where he usually held a knife, at his belt. Someone was sitting on the couch, holding a bowl of cereal as the television played the news. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at Clint, looking surprised.

“What the fuck?” Clint asked. “Who the hell are you, and how’d you get in here?” The guy couldn’t be older than eighteen, with brown hair and eyes.

“Uh,” The kid stammered. “Uh. I’m Peter? Peter Parker? Uh, are you Hawkeye?”

“One and only,” Clint said. “Oh, wait, shit. Not the one and only. Um, back to the matter at hand- what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m...an intern?” Peter tried hopefully.   
“Bullshit,” Clint said. “Interns don’t eat cereal in the living room.”   
Peter cringed. “Please don’t, like, arrest me or anything.”

“Why, are you going to do something arrest-able?” Clint asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.   
“No!” Peter said indignantly. “I’m just an intern- Mr. Stark gave me access to the compound so I could come work in the labs. He hasn’t been responding to texts or anything, and Happy hasn’t either, so I figured I’d come and see if the lab was open, or something.”

“That’s a terrible cover story,” Clint said. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

“ _ Mr. Parker is indeed telling the truth, Mr. Barton,” _ Jarvis interceded.

“-liiiike I said, I believe it 100 percent,” Clint corrected smoothly. “Nice meeting you.”

“So, uh…” Peter said nervously. “Is Mr. Stark around here anywhere?”

“That,” Clint said, “Is a very difficult question.”

“ _ Mr. Stark is in the workshop with Mr. Banner and Princess Shuri _ ,” Jarvis put in. Peter’s eyes got big. “Woah, Shuri’s here? Shuri’s awesome! Uh, why’s Shuri here?”

“You know Shuri?” Clint asked suspiciously.

“She came to work with Mr. Stark on a project once,” Peter said. “We, uh, met.”

Clint was no Natasha Romanov, but even he could tell the kid was hiding something. He scratched his head and tried to think of something to do.

“Uh, well, Tony isn’t really...feeling very well,” he said lamely. “I don’t really...think it would be for the best for you two to...um…”

“Is he okay?” Peter looked a little panicked. Definitely hiding something.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “But, uh, not...er…”

He was saved the trouble of thinking up a lie, because at that moment, the building vibrated with a tremor coming from below their floor, and the alarms went off. 

Clint froze, then swivelled around and made a mad dash for the stairs. “Which room, Jarvis?” He panted, jumping down five steps at a time.

“The explosion is from the workshop where Mr. Banner, Shuri, and Mr. Stark are located, Mr. Banner.”

Clint burst into the hallway in time to see Natasha running into the workshop. He skidded to a halt behind her, staring into the room.

Shuri was lying on her back, but groaned and started to stand as Clint watched.

He realized too late that Peter had followed him, and was now standing in the doorway, not even panting.

Bruce was unconscious, a few feet away from Shuri. Most of the desks and equipment were knocked over and jostled, a circle of destruction.

And at the center of the circle was a twelve year old boy, panting and staring around him with a panicked gaze.

“You should know,” He panted, “Stark Industries doesn’t pay ransoms.”


	9. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to make sense of the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos/comments.

This wasn’t Tony’s first kidnapping.

The media didn’t know, which something Howard had worked hard to achieve, but when Tony was eight, a group of men had broken into his home while Howard and Maria were away on business. Jarvis and Anna had been asleep, but Tony couldn’t sleep, so he was pacing around the mansion, exploring the endless halls and shadowed rooms of his huge childhood home. He’d just wandered onto the balcony when he heard voices in the hall- hushed voices, muttering urgently, saying things he couldn’t hear.

He was young, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d known that the first thing to do was wake Jarvis and Anna. He knew the way- the men were blocking the stairs, but there was a stairway on the other side of the mansion. If Tony could get there in time, he knew he could get to Jarvis.

He’d hunched down, dropping quietly onto his hands and knees, so that the men didn’t see him as he passed by the stairway railing in the darkness. He was good at being quiet, at avoiding people- he knew how to duck around hallways, slip behind doors, hide in shadows when his father came stalking down the floors of the mansion.

In the end, though, it wasn’t enough. He’d nearly reached the other side of the banister when he’d slipped, and fallen with a quiet thud. The men had looked up and seen him, and five harrowing minutes later he was unconscious in the back of a car.

They hadn’t hurt him very badly, only roughed him up a little so Howard would be more inclined to a hearty ransom. But he knew he’d made a mistake. He’d been caught. He’d allowed himself to be captured, used against the Stark family, and next time he wouldn’t be so lucky.

That was how he knew what to do, when he woke up in a circle of destruction, in the middle of a strange, bright room.

 

It wasn’t his father’s labs- too bright, full of strange blue lights. It certainly wasn’t one of the simplistic laboratories of his boarding school, the laboratories he snuck into at night when no teachers were there to make sure he didn’t mess with the equipment.

 

There were people there, too- a girl, sixteen or so, lying on her back, and a brown-haired man who was unconscious. He sat up slowly, feeling slow and confused. His head hurt. A pretty, red-haired woman entered the room. A moment later, there was a thudding, and a blonde man burst in, breathing heavily. There was a boy behind him, about the same age as the girl on her back.

 

“You should know,” he said, feeling eerily calm despite the situation. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, and when he tried, there was a curious pain in his chest. “Stark Industries doesn’t pay ransoms.”

The teenage girl was staring at him. “Bast above,” she said. “I expected this, but the exploding was a little excessive.”

The teenage boy was staring, mouth hanging open slightly, and the blonde man knelt by the unconscious one and carefully started looking him over.

 

The woman stepped forward a little, so Tony pushed himself away. She stopped and stayed where she was.

“Hi Tony,” she said. “My name’s Natasha. We haven’t kidnapped you, I promise.”

“Where am I?” Tony asked? He still felt oddly calm, even though his chest hurt and he was out of breath.

“You’re in our workshop,” she said. “There was an accident. If you come upstairs with us, we can explain everything.”

The unconscious man stirred and groaned slightly. The blonde man cursed, looking a little panicked as he watched the unconscious man.

There was a slight thudding, and the door opened to a huge blonde man. The teenage boy quickly moved aside as the man entered.

“Is everything...oh,” the man said, staring at Tony.

The unconscious man groaned again and sat up slightly, lifting a hand to his head.

“Woah, Bruce,” The man next to him said. “Take it easy. You hit your head, I think.”

“I noticed,” Bruce mumbled. He squinted at Tony. “..huh.”

Tony watched the large blonde man curiously. He knew that face- there was a picture of him on his father’s wall.

“I know who you are,” he said. The man looked a little surprised.

“My father was looking for you,” Tony says, “But he didn’t find you, which means- you’re a clone, or something. They recreated the serum, maybe. Is that why I’m here? You need the serum from my father?”

“We haven’t kidnapped you, Tony,” the redhead says calmly.

“Please don’t,” Tony says. “I know better than that. I’m not  _ that _ young, I’m just really short.” 

The teenage girl smiles at that. She gets to her feet.

“...What’s happening?” The teenage boy said, looking dizzy. “Seriously, what the heck?”

“You, Peter,” The blonde man said, “Should not be here. Bad intern. We should...do something about that, but, uh, more pressing matters at hand, I guess.”

Peter just blinks and continues looking like his head’s going to explode from sheer confusion.

“If you haven’t called my father yet, do go ahead and do so,” Tony said. “It will help speed things up once you realize that SI doesn’t pay ransoms.”

“Okay,” The redhead says. “Well, Tony, why don’t you come upstairs with us? This workshop might not be safe.”

Tony thinks about his options. He could refuse, but what good would that do? But then, this room is more likely to have something he can use to escape than any basement or closet they lock in him.

“I don’t think so,” he says. He looks at the fake Captain America again. It’s weird, seeing him here. His father talks about Captain America a lot- this isn’t him, of course. Captain America’s long gone. But still, it’s weird to see the face that’s mirrored by the picture on his father’s office wall.

The redhead watches him for a moment, and then sighs and stands. “FRIDAY, what’s the chance that something in here explodes soon?”

“The chance of explosion is moderately low,” a female Irish voice says, issuing from all around the room. Tony jumps in shock- it’s a foolish move, it gives away weakness, but he can’t help it. He’s not the only one who jumps- everyone but the redhead and Peter look startled.

“Oh, cool,” Peter says. “FRIDAY’s working. Hi, Friday.”   
“Hello, Mr. Parker,” the voice says.

“What the fug?” The smaller blonde man mutters. “Who’s FRIDAY? Where’s Ja-”

“Clint,” The redhead interrupts, and glares intensely at Clint. Clint clears his throat. “Right, sorry.”

“Okay,” the redhead says. “How about this? You don’t have to come anywhere, but Steve can go take Bruce to medical while me and Clint try to explain the situation.”

“Yes,” Peter says. “Please do explain it?”

The teenage girl goes to stand next to him. “It’s a long story,” she says. “I’ll explain it, let’s go to the kitchen.”

“Hang on a moment,” Clint says with a frown. “How is he allowed to know what’s happening? He’s an intern!”

“He’s a  _ good _ intern, though,” The girl says, and disappears out the door with Peter.


End file.
